Momentary
by Subject 12
Summary: His guilt was only momentary.


**Author's Note:** _:D yay, shitty plotlines!_

**Disclaimer:** _Assassin's Creed © Ubisoft._

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There were toys everywhere. Lego's and painful jacks that could take down a man of lesser footwear in mere moments but were just minor blips on the radar to the three men who had taken the front door clean off its hinges not thirty seconds before. They moved quietly into the dark home having been thoroughly warned by months of reconnaissance of the Yorkie who fancied itself a guard dog and would yap up a storm if he sensed intruders. The bullets in their guns weren't meant for furballs, as Richard had said when his subordinates suggested they just shoot the damned thing last week when the target had let him escape the confines of the house. If anything the intense weaponry the three men of Abstergo shouldered was meant to intimidate. The big stick to their decidedly dodgy diplomacy.

With a sharp jab of his hand towards the stairs Richard gave the signal to approach, leaving the warning for caution as understood. He allowed for the younger of his scrubs to lead as they stalked up the stairs of the townhouse, almost allowing the rug rat to pull open the first door to the left, just as the plan accorded. Of course though, Richard couldn't let the kid have that kind of glory. Not when it was so easily attainable for himself. With the aide of a large stride Richard broke in front of his companion and turned the glass knob sharply before cajoling the old door open.

There were more toys within this first bedroom, most of them seeming to spill in an endless supply from a large chest against the wall. From the window an eerie moonlight flooded squares of illumination to the floor. Richard's groan died in his throat as his eyes landed neatly on the empty cradle, slowly backing out of the room and gently closing the door. There was a faint snap as the latch caught but that was all it took for in the next moments, before the Abstergo men had even the chance to regroup, their lives came into immediate danger.

"Shit," Richard muttered, catching sight of the small baseball bat wielding girl who had joined them in the hall. She was old enough to be considered a woman by all accounts, but the fuzzy socks on her feet and the cutesy ponytail upon her brow made her appear much, much younger. It was clear her intent was murder, even if her only weapon available was the dingy lump of aluminum and batting tape she clutched close to her breast.

"What are you doing in my house?" she demanded, her voice thick with a Texan drawl.

Never being one for damage control but rather causing more damage so that the previous doesn't seem too bad, Richard fired a shot in the direction of her feet. Her scream filled the air and the bat dropped from her hand as she fell to the ground, clutching the wound that began to seep on her shin. It was just a graze; she would live. Richard led his men past her then, stepping lightly over the small pool of blood she was creating, what with her bleeding all over the place.

"We mean you no harm," Richard said calmly, "but if you get in our way, we will."

Faintly, the woman reached for her discarded bat, a piece of equipment that upon further inspection revealed it was actually designed for softball, not baseball. Once upon a time, Richard mused, she must have been some athlete. But athletes are easily taken care of by bullets. He ordered one of his subordinates to guard her while he and the young one entered the second bedroom.

There were no lights except the lamp beside the bed, and even then its pale yellow glow sang of a bulb that would soon need replacing as it grew dim. Richard crossed the room to the dominate feature of the room, the bed, and threw back the crimson covers. Beneath them his target didn't even stir as the chilly night air hit him and goose pimples erupted upon the exposed flesh.

The three year old looked so peaceful as he slept; Richard almost felt guilty.

His guilt was only momentary however and without hesitation he scooped the small creature up, finding himself nearly repulsed by its trusting nature as the child curled into his warm frame. Children were an annoyance, but he could plainly see where this child in particular would be of help to Abstergo.

"Come," Richard ordered his makeshift sentry, heading towards the stairs with the child in arm and the men in tow.

The woman screamed. "You can't just take him! You can't just do that!"

Richard's patience hit its limit. He turned to the scrub at his side, "Shut her up."

The shot was fired before the order was finished, the woman dead before she hit the ground, and Noah Miles was crying before he even knew he had something to cry over.

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**Author's Note:** _So if you're thoroughly confused... Noah's clearly Desmond's bastard son done been kidnapped. Right? _


End file.
